PAYBACK
by SheerLuck Home
Summary: Enter Fettel's mind and follow his thoughts plus behavior as he fights through the first F.E.A.R. game.


_Author Note: be advised, for those who wishes to skip the part where Fettel masturbates once, I have put asterisks *** before that scene starts and once it's over. That way no one will be offended and can enjoy this story still._

* * *

 **Be a God among Men**

Additional memories were required and the more he slain the hungrier for knowledge he became. With each kills followed the cannibalistic tendencies he had to give in, resulting in more information as he masticated and swallowed. It was messy, it was warm; such an experience that no one on Earth ever went through. It all flew in as if he opened a flood gate, amazing how there was always space for more...

Many would consider him inhuman, no matter; he lost his humanity long ago when the nightmare began. When _**they**_ made the mistake to think they could control her, could control him. He was given many names, freak, error of nature, second prototype, rat, little shit, commander, cannibalistic maniac and so forth. Surprising what they could come up with in their heads, especially at the last minute before they expire.

However his name was one of simplicity, one a mother should have given to her child…. but she had not chosen it, likewise for everything, _**they**_ had orchestrated it all. _**They**_ had stolen everything from the three; all paths laid out with not so much as a choice but being manipulated and forced to become what _**they**_ hoped for. So his existence was fabricated, he was molded then became more than a man; was slowly being built to turn into the most powerful psychic commander _**they**_ ever created, that this Earth ever knew beside the Original.

Armacham Technologies Incorporated, they were the true enemy; the relevant names were carved into his mind with scorching undying fire. The flames within licked at the figures in wanting to consume the scum, a simple prelude to what both he and she had planned for them.

His mother, Alma Wade, used and ruthlessly experimented on for her tremendous psionic capabilities ever since she was three years old. Then at age five she refused to cooperate any longer, playing with scientists' minds and giving them nightmares too; only to be put under sedation then into a forced coma. Then again at seven, her own father, having cloned embryos with her DNA only to fuse them with the sperm of many staff members, including his own; would impregnate her to see if he could manage to breed a being as superior as his daughter.

Once she had begun creating ovaries, they went on with the procedure. So at age 15 she gave birth to the first prototype, taken from her immediately and deemed almost a failure. Put through coma again only to go through second pregnancy; the second prototype birthed a year later, also stolen from her rightful arms. Both children locked up and kept alive to be studied; going through the same intense testing that she was forced to.

Until Alma was able to link with Fettel when he was 10 years old, completely breaking something inside him that was already shattering.

After killing so many guards in that ''bedroom'' before they managed to sedate him, after scaring Armacham enough more once; they shut down the project, unplugging Alma's vital systems and sealed the door. Six days later, she died of malnutrition in her pod; she was 26 years old then. But her spirit would not vanish, stuck in there with its corpse due to the Vault's nature.

Until twenty years later, a certain woman decided there was no danger anymore and re-opened the Vault; sending one squad to recon the area, she soon lost contact with them. Then decided to deploy a second unit but they also disappeared; proving that Alma was still active and as powerful. The door was shut once more but it was too late.

And a few days later, Alma appeared to her son once more, visited him in his cell... Initiating the second Synchronicity Event; freeing him entirely.

Oh how it all backfired, now they fear her, they fear him; they have no idea what the extent of their power is. She had helped him develop since the first event, later helped him escape his prison; now they were hunting the bastards down together, as family, and he would set her free back. With a whole army under his mind control, Paxton Fettel had already begun decimating every single one of the enemy; not only taking their worthless lives but stealing everything down to their memories…. stripping it all like flesh from bones.

They deserve to die; they all deserve to die….

* * *

Crimson fluid dripped from his hands, on his chin, chest and legs; it would splatter about as matter was ripped apart. It was marvelous, everything that he could see or chose to experience for himself in those moment. The faint spasms from below were barely noticeable anymore, he had been at it for two minutes but it always seemed that the draining of memories would keep the victim conscious longer; despite the trauma of being eaten alive plus the pain and constant blood loss, since it stimulated the brain because of the link. The intense iron smell was in the air plus all over him, but Fettel did not care since he was lost in labyrinths of other aromas, images, sounds and emotions.

Some he would fast forward or literally skip until he would stumble upon what he was hunting for. So many years of being abused, treated like a mere subject of research now it was paying off and he was at the peak of his enthusiasm. If he ever knew what pleasure truly felt like, Paxton thought this was it, right now as he had the utmost control. He swallowed another chunk before leaning forward once more, his taste buds had enough but he wasn't done yet. His fingers were slippery but he still had the strength to decapitate and filled his bloody mouth again.

How many times had he repeated the motion with this one? As the brief thought dawned on him he couldn't tell since he had been too focused on his business to keep count. However the commander was paying attention to his surroundings, the two replica soldiers at his side were his eyes and ears each time, plus the a whole battalion of them out there doing his bidding. Therefore he was aware of many things because with a mind like his, he could, and would certainly not refrain himself to.

More images flashed in his mind, through eyes that were not really his at the time; windows to another world than his.

His jacket was soaked; there was a puddle of blood forming beneath and all around him, spreading upwards to his knees through his clothing. He did not care since it always dried fast, the last memory he grasped made him utter a moan; Fettel had collected what he hoped for. With a last push of his tongue he forwarded the meat down his esophagus thus zapping the last remnant of data from it then was done.

He stayed there a moment, replaying the information and making sure of planning ahead. A wet sound was heard when he got up, with no more regards to the now-unimportant carcass. Not even bothering to wipe his face, the man vanished as he instructed his soldiers with new course of actions.

* * *

Standing at a corner reviewing every bits of mental information he had gathered, and still receiving new ones every now and then from all replica soldiers; Fettel closed his eyes and began massaging his right temple. His fingertips were cold on the slightly warmer skin, the man was having a sharp pain there and it would not recede. It felt like being stabbed and sometimes the ache would spread down to his cheek, he figured it had to do with him using much of his power but after years of physical and mental torture this was absolutely nothing.

Still, he would find his hand level and touch there sometimes, perhaps more a gesture of trying to concentrate better than one to calm an innerving throbbing that had no way of being alleviated by touch.

He gave another hard push to thrust his mind farther, his jaw clenched but he did not notice; multiple images got captured in one after another, everything was going on smoothly. The commander got a notification from one of his squad; they had found the doctor he was looking for. His teeth departed before his tongue slid on them half way, he was already preparing to savor his next meal of data as he dematerialized from his current position to push his consciousness towards the next area he wanted to reach.

The iron-smelling man appeared near the soldiers holding the victim hostage and at Paxton's view the man's eyes widened in horror; the prey knew the black haired man, knew this was it for him. The leader approached the scientist and grabbed him by the throat, when Fettel spoke he felt the other man was going through a great deal of struggle not to soak his underwear.

«Doctor, I can't say this is quite a pleasurable reunion; for you in the least. », voice raspy, rumbling like an incoming storm.

The scientific squirmed and Paxton knew the man immediately chastised himself for doing so in front of the commander, but the second prototype could hardly blame him: the last time this scum had seen him was when Paxton was still just a kid. Not as frightening as how he looked now nor far from being this determined and powerful. Fettel's behavior was a complete contrast with the other man's; calm, attentive, playfully smirking even.

«I have to wonder, what are the circumstances of your presence here so far away from the main complex…? »

The doctor shifted his sight somewhere else, he could not bear the deep stare of the gray eyes, they were _literally_ reading him and he knew it. Burning, clawing their way in.

«Shh, no need to talk; your tongue will only lie but your flesh will reveal all. »

On this Fettel forced him down, the contact with the floor was deliberately brutal, both to strike fear and incapacitate some more but mainly provoked by a growing envy to discover the hidden _right now_. At first he screamed, they all did, but it was so quickly reduced to gurgling then followed by small lament as the commander went on tearing and eating.

Paxton proceeded as usual up until he felt he was being watched; he ceased everything and turned his head around, brows narrowed. Yes, they were there, the pitiful humans could see him thanks to the camera feed but he could feel them differently. The attention diverted to him, it was hard to explain how he could discern it but that wasn't really important; the fact that his senses were capable of giving the warning was sufficient enough.

No matter, they could not attain him even if not for the distance between them they wouldn't be able to do him harm if they were standing right before him this instant. Aware of them witnesses now, the man went back to his business. He had expected Armacham forces of every kind but these pawns were new on the board, and he was eager to learn more, even test himself against them. Little did he suspect that the first revelation on one of them would come from the future-corpse he was devouring, hence a chunk of flesh was chewed on slower than most were as Fettel pondered over the discovery.

Crimson droplets fell from his chin unto his hands as a strange glimmer appeared in his eyes, followed by a distant smile forming on his lips. _«Family…»_

* * *

Paxton Fettel wandered the complex on foot for a while; he already had teams dispatched on every Armacham filthy facilities including the ones that had been closed down once their usefulness spent. So no matter where this unknown organization would venture into he would soon know it. _Project Origin, South RiverWastewater Treatment Plant, Armacham HQ...The Vault._

His contemplation went back to that man, the one he thought he had lost sight of from back then when they were just dumb frightened kids. Of course _she_ felt it too and filled in the blanks for him, her own flesh and blood working for the wrong party, his big brother being completely oblivious as to where he really came from and to what he truly is. Paxton knew they were both different from each other, they always have been but he wondered to which extent now. What had changed if any occurred, how does he think now, would he submit: would he finally understand or would he stand in their way…?

Now this was getting more interesting but also filled some space with additional doubts, since he is from _her_ ; what is he really capable of? Sooner or later Fettel would find out, whether his dear brother wanted or not to uncover the truth for himself. Family is important, they took them away from her then stole their lives from them afterward; now they won't win this war. The gray eyes stopped looking randomly to fix somewhere, followed by one side of the mouth that was turning into a slight curve; he had just been notified of their location.

A cloud of black ash was left behind, leaving the complex riddled with replica forces and blood trails leading to dead bodies.

* * *

The First Encounter Assault Reckon operative appointed as Point Man was now on the roof, nearing Fettel's position; the commander had felt his presence way before hearing him of course. Well it was time for blind PM to meet little brother and see what comes out of this. The unsuspecting kin was about passing him by when Paxton knocked him hard with a plank directly in the man's face. It hadn't been strong enough to make him lose consciousness but adequately forceful to knock him on the floor, now having to wait for his vision to stabilize.

Fettel watched the soldier as this one tried to focus, standing over him and analyzing everything that he could grasp; what he then gathered he had suspected as much. Meanwhile the two replica forces accompanying him kept watch ever so skillfully.

The sprawled puppet finally directed his regained attention on his attacker so Fettel squatted to his level, at times staring right at him or just calmly looking around: there was no denying who was really in control here. Still a bit dizzy from the sudden altercation, Point Man remained where he was and listened to the man whose face and portions of clothing were soaked with hemoglobin, it was all he could smell.

«The dead man's name was Charles Habegger. Ahh, I remember him, but are the memories mine, or hers? »

The soldier figured he was referring to the disfigured body they had just discovered inside the abandoned building. The gray eyes moved to his face, scanning beyond the thick black protective glasses of the Point Man; he felt as if his brain was being tempered with as well. Lieutenant Betters had warned them about this, too. The commander seemed truly relaxed as if nothing could scare or touch him; the soldier hoped it was only the killer's blind assurance rather than the reflection of facts. The eyes weren't completely icy cold, you could see serene amusement within and the way this man behaved proved that there were things only him knew about; thus making sense about his whole laid back demeanor.

«It makes no difference, they deserve to die: they _all_ deserve to die. »

The low spoken voice was all that he heard before things went dark again. On his part, Fettel had gained more data but did not plan on feasting on his brother, for now. There were other tactics in motions and if they didn't work then another approach would be required; that which was also planned out. Paxton was a little bit disappointed, if that's all his brother had to offer…. but there was still time for him to prove what he's worth, and to remember.

When Point Man came to he was alone, but somehow the stench of blood remained. Along with something unknown nagging at him from the recesses of his repressed memories...

* * *

Was there any time left for a breather nowadays when you're a powerful psychic hunted down by so many? No, not really, but there were times when Fettel had a foggy mind from all the demanding work, where he felt if he did not at least close his eyes for thirty minutes that he would drop then. He was relatively new to using his powers non-stop like that and it was more demanding than any ordinary humans could possibly comprehend. Hence there were times of almost silence when he would try to rest, leaving the work to the replicas that would wake him if any urgent circumstances were to occur.

Well this was one of those rare times when Fettel allowed himself short respite.

There was the feeling of being with someone, and although this was not the kind of reverie a scarred and busy mind like his would normally summon; sometimes he had dreams like this. One including an intimacy, one where there was something else than cold and blood, one filled with warmth and proximity not linked with the act of killing. A hand touches a waist, grabbing it and holding it down, rubbing on it plus around the surface, hand wandering on a smooth back. There were kisses landed on his skin, sometimes quick or otherwise slow and passionate. A different desire than the envy of decimation that was usually felt; a singular kind of throbbing moreover not situated in the same area.

Instead of bullets riddling him, there were gentle hands caressing his skin, limbs that were eager to inspect everything, polite and naughty in turn. A different fever was building, a dissimilar taste was found on someone's lips and other things were mouthed, nothing like the usual. Instead of screams obtained by torture and fear, there were soft moans, even echoes of his own pleasurable groans plus shortness of breath.

Until his grip would tighten, until he sensed himself grow more restless and really felt every motion of his thrusts, every nerves being struck; when the moans he erupted in the dream would cruelly pull him back to reality forcing him to notice his existent physical arousal outside the realms of imagination.

There were times when he longed for it, truly longed for it, but this was yet again not the moment to give in to his most basic needs. He vowed to keep the frustration where it belonged, where it made a bulge, thus forced his mind to focus on plenty of other things. He knew he would have to give in sooner or later but the more he pushed that moment away, the more he proved to himself how much he was in control and not the other way around. However it is a jaw-clenched Fettel that stood up trying to avoid any soft noises from being produced, not even in his throat, as he moved and kept his hands busy on other materials than himself.

* * *

Paxton would find out where other important employees were, sometimes he would strap them to a chair and question them until things got messier. He was currently busy doing just that, revolving around his new prey slowly, enjoying himself. The commander's presence was like torture in its own but hearing this freak's calculated voice outside and inside his head was worse. Fettel wanted answers and he would get them, no matter the method used; the man didn't know that yet thus played it innocent.

The much-calmer voice filled the empty room first, «Where is she? »

«I am telling you, please, you've got the wrong man! »

The black-haired man arrived in front of him, shifting his arms from behind his back now to his sides, just staring the employee in the face; he knew the sack of shit was lying. Fettel's breath rolled in his throat slowly, keeping his composure and showing how unimpressed he was, additionally not to take him for an imbecile.

«Some secrets gets buried deeper than others, fortunately I know where to dig. »

The man uneasily moved on the chair, getting sweaty and started trembling; that, though, was genuine. He begged his sickening captor some more but to no avail. Fettel, although a bit amused, have had his share of lies already. As he had been staring the bastard from above, he approached his face to the man's and proceeded to smile as he spoke; making the other shiver in place both from the killer's sudden proximity as well as the smell of death emanating from him.

«Hush now Mr. Broody, the time for talk is done…. »

The victim's eyes pleaded some more but blood was spilled nonetheless.

* * *

_++Point Man++_

The Point Man's interaction with the commander would limit to brief sightings and end up with the psychic leaving a cloud of ashes behind, sometimes saying something cryptic. He was making him more nervous than the replicas would, at least they remained physical and in specified location so he always knew what to expect, but it was a different experience with the murderer who played with the circumstances as he saw fit. He still wondered why Paxton wasn't attacking him but mainly contended himself with what he's been doing so far, although yes his forces were doing his bidding but that wasn't personal like what the maniac had done to the other victims.

One time PM had seen a shadow cross the hall behind thick glass, Fettel's voice that could be easily identified, strangely telling him to stay out of his way. It were merely a cautionary advice, colder and spoken lower more than usual yes but still not a direct attack like the soldier knew him being easily capable of. Point Man of course would not abdicate, it was his job moreover he personally cared to make it all stop and was expecting anyway to be forced to deal with the commander in a near future, surely Fettel would oblige despite his unknown intensions at this time.

He wondered what he could do though knowing bullets had no effect on the target and seeing that he could flee at anytime, let alone all the other skills at the commander's disposal that were still unidentified to most. But no point in torturing oneself with this, when the time comes he would face the threat as best he could; it always were the case in every situation he's been in and although he'd never faced a foe like Paxton before, Point Man figured that in the end the same basic rules also applied to him. It was all he ever knew, that which he needed to do and did it well enough to succeed where many had fallen.

Lately they had crossed path again, whether it was all intentional or not still eluded Point Man but no matter, what Fettel said to him then remained stuck in his mind more than the rest for some reason. Perhaps it was because he was chasing down a ghost in the bowels of some renovation area with lights flickering and shadows appearing at every corners, or it might have something to do with how strangely factual his words sounded. Maybe it was because he could not explain the feeling it gave him once Paxton was done talking; or simply proof that he was thinking too much, getting in too deep. He didn't know, but the serene voice hung in the air long after Fettel was gone:

«You've seen her, haven't you…. she is the original. I was made from her, born from her; we are separate but one… She is a prisoner, floating in darkness; like the unborn in the womb. Soon I will find her and I will set her free…. »

The first time that the psychic had stayed in PM's presence longer than usual was on their meeting on the roof; this time it happened again as he walked in a room and saw the target standing behind a window, staring at him as if he had known Point Man would just walk in there to meet him. Shooting would have no effect, so the soldier just walked to the still figure fixedly watched under a pair of attentive eyes. Blood was still covering his lower face and uniform but some seemed fresher than the rest, the man thought he'd soon find the body laying somewhere as it certainly wasn't Fettel's.

Point Man's inspection only lasted a few seconds but Paxton just stood there allowing it, remaining as stoic. His demeanor had not changed from last time plus his voice still retained his calm low tone, talking to his brother as if he was making sweet confessions that nobody else knew about and it was probably the case.

Though as the psychic started speaking, the man seemed a bit annoyed to see him there, « _ **You**_ again… »

For a second there something gleamed in Paxton's eyes and Point Man thought the target would attack him but it vanished as fast from the gray irises. Their eyes remained locked unto each other, both not even blinking; the soldier from being tensed not knowing what other trick to expect and Fettel just because he was precisely feeling like it at the time.

«They tried to bury their sins but instead planted the seeds of their doom… »

PM could only wonder to what he was referring to once more. While not moving still, the physical image started to dissipate into the usual ashes until it disappeared entirely although his voice remained; ringing of fatalism and somehow the soldier had no problem to believe his words were truthful.

«A war is coming, I've seen it in my dreams; fire sweeping over the earth, bodies in the streets, cities turned to dust. Retaliation… »

Then he felt Fettel's presence completely disappearing from the room, leaving him alone with new doubts and self-imagined visions of a doomsday that he really felt had the chance to happen. He could not explain the feeling, but it was there; creeping over his shoulder and whispering on his neck _'Told you it was coming.'_ Both the commander and this strange woman were giving him hints of what was next to come but who in the hell were they….?

Point Man didn't linger in place, he had a mission to accomplish and got right back to it although his mind would still wander on everything else. How could it not, they were relentlessly making sure he would not forget; both were everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. Claws scratching over his skull chanting _'Knock knock, we exist; you can't possibly ignore us. We're part of that feeling in your gut, twisting, aching, tearing apart….'_

' _Making you mad'._

* * *

_++Paxton Fettel++_

The Point Man's silly patriotism and blind devotion towards his useless mission: Paxton saw no point in it all, the soldier was in the wrong team and if he remained so after knowing whom the real enemy was then he would share the same fate. The commander laid his back against a wall, crossed arms over his chest and pondered it all; he could not conceive of his brother's willingness to undergo through such nonsense. Surely once he'd finally uncover the truth, that he would switch sides? Certainly he wouldn't be blinded enough as to ignore the facts and all the shit Armacham had done, it ought to act as a slap in his damn face and wake him up at once, wasn't it?

Fettel wasn't sure but he definitely felt irked; he moved away from the concrete and started wandering the room, eyes not really seeing wherever he laid them. If despite everything his older sibling still were to continue on his pointless quest… then his fate was sealed, Paxton would not especially enjoy it but would still take care of him nonetheless. Bro wasn't exactly trash like the others but if he persisted on going down that stupid path, then in the end that cretin was no better so both himself and mother would be best without.

His right hand leveled to touch his temple once more, then went upward atop his head, rubbing on the silky hair down to the back of his head where he felt he needed to apply pressure and massage there. Unlike him, Fettel then let go of a long sigh; at least the contact of his own fingers seemed to release some of the tension in the ligaments that were strained in that precise spot.

Meanwhile his multiple links with the replicas informed him that the F.E.A.R. operatives were trying to locate that bastard's daughter Alice Wade. Unlike the prototypes and their mother, Alice had no powers at all; Fettel didn't even consider her as part of the family but just another means to reach his goal _. "Father" has made another mistake..._ Paxton doubted she would be of some use therefore had left her alone despite knowing of her existence, but now had plans for her. No doubt they would send their best puppet to rescue her, well she was stubborn and doing as she pleased thus both wanderers got separated twice along the road; leaving the careless little prey to the predator.

Fettel had gotten the hold on her so quickly, she wasn't a soldier plus her mind was easily opened to psychic manipulation. She didn't have time to be frightened; Paxton spotted Alice fast and started using her against Point Man, toying with them both. When the soldier was making his way in another abandoned area, the psychic showed himself to him once again. He made her stand before his sibling, wooden planks separated them from each other as he was holding her by the neck, although if he didn't she wouldn't even try to flee.

Paxton then revealed himself standing right behind her, looking at his brother and gently speaking. Half concealed by the darkness Point Man couldn't see if he was smiling but the tone in his voice hinted so.

«She smells nice… »

The commander then pulled her aside and disappeared from his view, not soon after the soldier entered into the hallucination Fettel had concocted for him, making him think he had already killed the subject. So the corpse and all the blood vanished just as any other visions Point Man had been subjected to since the beginning of this whole thing. The psychic left him to finish whatever he was there for and brought Alice with him, it was time to see if she was worth something.

He supposed many other men would have taken this opportunity to abuse of her as they saw fit. However Paxton never cared for unwilling women, since as far as any sexual activity was involved, he liked it when they were responding back; it aroused him more than just taking advantage, so he used her in his own personal way instead. Besides, mother wanted her dead for having had what she never were allowed to; parental love and a healthier life. Alice had been born from another mother but that little shit was still the father, and he'd be next.

The blonde was still drifting into the hallucinating world he had forced her into though Alice reacted when his teeth plunged into her skin, closing his eyes when blood spilled so as not to have any in them. Usually he would grab pieces from the jugular, but since she was wearing a goddamn perfume he didn't want to have that taste in mouth so he took a mouthful of her waist. She was really thin but there was enough flesh there to masticate and then info flew in. As suspected, her asshole of a father had been keeping many secrets from her so there wasn't much knowledge to gather, moreover some of the things he saw then he already knew. He stood up and looked at how she was sprawled there, she did have a nice body but that was it, Fettel wasn't interested much. Her feminine curves left him rather indifferent although they summoned images of another woman, the one that had been in his dreams all along.

He left the cadaver to the silence, wondering why it was that he always dreamed of someone he never even met nor knew. The more he thought about it, trying to solve things, the more it deviated from that simple path and went back to warmer wanderings. There you go, he was awake but that annoying crap was pouring in his skull still making him falter from his usually very-attentive state of mind. He didn't like to have his concentration being interrupted like this back and forth between business and a growing envy to just give in the surfacing memories, with all the emotions and sensations it begged to produce.

Still it itched, seeing he was alone now maybe it was time to just get this over with.

************warning***********

His tongue flew on his lips and he glanced around still unsure he truly wanted to just give in so damn easily. As he walked though he felt something had already succumbed and was begging for his attention, the man stopped near a doorframe placing his left hand on its side and the other on his forehead, trying to direct his focus on another matter. He groaned in annoyance. Well this time it wouldn't work, and despite replica soldiers being nothing but mere puppets, he really didn't feel like one of them accidentally bumping in him while he felt, and looked, like this.

He scanned every single one of them to know their location, no problems for now and they were all doing whatever they were supposed to. Shoulders tensed, an irritated sigh left his nose; no way would he do that in some cubicle where people had worked, he needed to find someplace else. The throbbing had calmed down a bit but he knew the damn stiffness wouldn't just go away on its own this time. He vanished and appeared into that massage room that had been set there for employees, the door was locked and no one had been able to enter in here since the whole massacre had started. It was calm, devoid of any cameras plus it didn't smell like death, not that carrying it on him was of any bother but he wasn't noticing it anymore up until now since he was in a cleaner environment.

So this was it, his thought so easily went back to his groin just aching to be touched. He feverishly loosened his pants, down his hand went and brought it out of its prison, making him close his eyes. He stood near that comfy table where people lay on and soon his other hand positioned on it to steady himself. The images of the woman occupied his thoughts, she felt nice and she wanted him as badly, he could read her thoughts and send many others in there so as to make her squirm more. Her movements and moans were so erotic, Fettel's breath accelerated, his member rock-hard in his hand and sliding intensified as the bud spurred its special liquid.

Paxton felt his knee starting to give way under him, reluctantly removing his hand from between his legs he mounted on the table, resting on half his left side and holding himself stable with his other arm stretched before him, then he departed his legs as much as the restricted space permitted before grabbing his pulsing member again. Undulating in his mind were images of milky breasts, womanly hips and not teenager's, nice smooth lips kissing him wherever they could reach plus mouthing his nipple. Soon enough his pelvis started moving back and forth rather than his hand sliding down the length.

There was the sound of the table moving a bit and soft breaths, sometimes moan were produced when the thumb rubbed on the head. So hot, his groin burned with delight, the man licked his lips again before giving a quick thrust. Imaginative hands gripped his solid shoulders; later he lowered himself on the table as his other arm had started to shake, followed by his forehead seconds after. His usual dominating expression had melted, giving way to slightly arched brows and sweet satisfaction on his features.

With his mouth now open, each time he exhaled it would create condensation on the material beneath him. The table would jolt forward a little under some of his quicker thrusts; the heat of passion consumed him, his thigh either rolling or balancing in a perfect rhythm accompanied by manly erotic noises. The movement of his waist timed perfectly with the flaming paradise in his mind and the sensation between his legs becoming electric.

Oh it was building and building, when he felt it was about happening he slowed down a little although his entire being pressured him for so much more, then he tightened his grip around himself and gave other pushes until his other hand completely closed around the ridge of the table making it crack. When came the awaited delivery his face bloomed with bliss, his muscles tensed and his toes curled; groaning and moaning as the flow went on, his juice now on his hand as his body kept moving on its own to finish the job.

His head was entirely resting on the surface beforehand when he also laid the rest of his body on the whole table, heavily breathing there, hand resting where he had left it. A couple of sighs later, he used a folded towel to clean himself then slicked some of his disheveled dark hair backward.

All the tension and emotions subsided, he re-took full contact with the soldiers; looks like everything was still fine.

*******done********

* * *

Paxton knew the elite task force had lost his signal again, knew he was proving to be highly evasive, way more than the delusional morons had previously anticipated. How could one hope to track another that had the potential of manifesting their mind physically where ever they wished? Fools, all of them, they had no idea what this was really about; otherwise they would have put an end to their futile efforts years ago. Paxton Fettel was about setting her free and then they would all beg for mercy but none would be given, they will all cry in pain as they drown in pools of blood and their own defecation. War had merely begun but the apocalypse was yet to come and they would all have front seats to the show.

Most of the time Fettel's hate and disgust for them maggots would reach a level so profound that if only capable it would crack the very core of the Earth apart. He processed that perhaps some of his strong headache could come from that will to try but lack of power into making it tangible. But he knew someone that was close to possessing such formidable means thus was more than eager to see what she would do once out of that cursed cage; unshackled and harboring 47 goddamn years of profound hatred that itched to prevail. No doubt he would revel in it all then and savor every bit of decimating that would take part, up until he stands at the edge of the world crumbling at his feet, leveling his arms clamoring to a tormented sky.

He would stand tall there in the mist of the red sun and rivers of blood flowing beneath, a new scent descending on the world, new canvas for everyone to see. He knew it, saw it in his visions; had many precognitive dreams that came true. Just the same when he was a kid and dreamed that he ate a man consequently by doing so took his knowledge. When he finally spoke about this to the bastard, they all looked at him as if he was deranged, more so than usual; so he never mentioned it again.

For all he knows they might even have made fun of him when he wasn't around; well they aren't amused now.

The thought made Paxton laugh out loud though; it reverberated on the cold cement walls and filled the room. As usual the replica standing guards around didn't even flinch. Somewhere, he felt Alma was laughing as well though internally, her jaws clenched tight.

* * *

Many had died but not nearly enough had paid yet, well it was starting to look more promising now as Fettel finally set foot in the secret Vault, but before he would free her he needed to know if big brother had changed his perceptions of reality. He summoned him in the flaming void of his imagination, standing straight as he addressed him; this wasn't just another test to see what laid in the soldier's memories but it was the time and place to launch things forward at last.

«You still don't know do you, who you are? Why, you're here….. »

Point Man's vision of the commander was blurry and quite frankly each time he was forced into one of those hallucinations it felt so real, darkly ominous, but no matter the experiences pilling up this instance was no different. Seeing his tormentor standing there in a rather ghastly form, staring at him and addressing him so directly didn't help a thing. What did he want exactly, what is he talking about….?

«What's the first thing you remember? What's your given name? Where were you born? », the rough voice filled the flaming darkness.

The elite frowned but could not avert his eyes from the orange form, he didn't like where this was going; the twisted gut feeling was intensifying, his mouth dried up.

«You have no history. You and I were born from the same mother; surely you must have sensed it. A life of one waking from a nightmare only to find herself deep into another…. »

The scenery changed, now they were both in a cell of sort, a thin mattress on a metal frame resting in the left corner, and none other than Paxton Fettel on his knees looking up at him. He seemed as resolved as usual, awfully content even.

«I will set her free…. »

This was his last sentence before he fell into silence, his eyes locked unto his brother as Point Man recalled everything as if a floodgate had burst open, memories rushed in, swirled, shattered on the borders of his mind. He felt dizzy, sick, angry, disgusted, disturbed; but all in all awfully lost. So he grabbed unto what he always knew, what felt home to him, what made more sense than all this….. Which is his mission, his current existence; a solid matter in his hand and a finger on the trigger. He could not let this happen, the nightmare had to end, not perpetuate.

Fettel kept staring at him, that smile, those still eyes; oh he knew, but still he refused to move from his kneeled position mainly awaiting big brother's next move.

Was this all part of his plan again and why wasn't he doing anything knowing that Point Man was about to end his life? Fettel could project his consciousness everywhere, then why was he sort of capitulating now, what game was he playing?

This room meant nothing to the soldier but perhaps this had significance for Paxton, maybe he had been kept locked in here for who knows how long and if so how did he escape? Was this merely another elusion or had he brought Point Man's consciousness to a personal location this time, and why? Why this ominous serenity, this sudden lack of fighting back?

Too many uncertainties so little time, the mission prevails; better do something rather than leave him alive and regret it later. Suddenly the sight of _his younger brother_ sickened him, he represented something so familiarly unfamiliar to which he was linked to; always had been as the memories of experiments unfolded, therefore he wanted to sever this filthy link to burn the memories along with it by the action.

His fate orchestrated, he had been born to be a monster but at least now he could choose not to be anymore. A shell popped from his pistol consequently Point Man was sent back to the Vault, his brother still on his knees but shoulders bowed and chin resting on his chest now, lifeless.

Then he saw Alice's body laid on her stomach, dead as well, the floor and walls all around them painted with a great amount of blood. Was he really deceased? Did he set _her_ free...? Point Man had to make sure, see that his mission was accordingly finalized. With no more regards for his sibling he left the bloody spectacle behind. En route to his final destination he faced more replica forces but they just stood still like broken toys. With Fettel dead, these guys were now truly just empty shells with no puppeteers to command them. They would remain put, head bowed and arms limp at their sides up until they died.

Point Man moved on and soon located the main chamber where he found out that their hell was far from being over, however.

As he came face to face with mother.

Harlan Wade had just opened her pod, consequently tasting for himself what her liquefying power really felt like as his insides splattered all over the room. Then Alma walked out of there; her spirit reunited with her physical body after so long. Her firstborn son witnessing her own rebirth.

PM never was a very emotional man, but when he saw her there, hair rose on his forearms and neck... Even a complete moron would understand how big this was, her being out...fully capable and utterly pissed off.

Next, she pulled him in a hallucination to show him the day he was born, and her screaming not to take him away from her. The Project Origin; him and Fettel...

Back at present and staring at the bloody footprints left by her, he knew he'd have to destroy that huge core and everything along with it. He ran to the lower level and after exposing the feeble parts of the sphere, he used his VK-12 Shotgun to destroy them. Blue sparks erupted within the chamber as it was racked with tremors plus an orange light sweeping the area. It was more than time to leave, and among the floating hordes of monsters converging on him from time to time, he'd see the emancipated form of his mother slowly walking towards the exit as well.

Once in another corridor she pulled him in a different hallucination. Alma was now stepping towards him and as she crept closer she leveled her scrawny arms as if to embrace her son. Point Man had no other choice than to open fire because he knew her touch to be lethal. Once vanished and brought back to the dire event at hand, a voice rang in his head:

«I know who you are...», he kept running and evaded a bursting pipe now spitting fire, «...my baby. »

As for Fettel, he was now freer than he'd ever been thus making him more powerful. For some, plans had changed for the worse but for him things had barely begun to flourish. He had foolishly hoped his sibling to finally understand but little did it surprise him as for dear brother never had been attuned to mother like he had; never heard her call, never shared consciousness with hers. Still though what a shame it was; what the three of them could have accomplished….

From where he was he watched, and even felt more, Alma getting out of her prison and owed blood was immediately spilled. Her psychic waves were so powerful that Paxton lost his own identity for as long as their duration was in effect; feeling and hearing things she was sending him as if he was living it for himself. It was crushing, dizzying; oh how her hatred was a hundred times worse than Fettel's already-intense anger, it knew no bound and her power was as immense.

The psychic felt more complete than ever, every molecules of his bodiless form were so alive plus warming up, departing at will and reconstructing in turn; he sensed there were no boundaries anymore and was anxious to discover what he was now truly capable of accomplishing.

 **Retribution.**

* * *

 _Author Note:_ if any of you likes Tributes (or parody/humor), I have plenty on my YT channel. Since Fan Fiction doesn't allow to copy/paste links, enter the following in your browser. Then watch Fettel tributes (or F.E.A.R./Alma if you want):

Paxton Fettel (Tribute) – Seizure of Power (F.E.A.R.1)

Paxton Fettel (Tribute) - Jemand

Paxton Fettel (Tribute) – Sad But True

De Void is my username.


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